


Burns

by KingDorkus (orphan_account)



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, It's kind of what this fic is about, It's vaguely mentioned but still, Just burns, M/M, May have mentions of other characters, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, There will be a few possibly descriptive mentions of self harm, Trans Male Character, no blood though, rich is trans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-06 18:45:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11042061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/KingDorkus
Summary: He pulled the lighter from his pocket. With the Squip around, he hadn't really needed it. And yet he still carried it with him everywhere he went, just in case. He figured that this counted well enough as a just in case situation. He was freaking out in his best friend's bedroom while a rager went on outside and he felt like he couldn't breathe, but there was no way in hell that he was taking off his binder because that would only make everything worse.AKA: Rich self harms and Jake finds out.ON INDEFINITE HIATUS.





	1. This Party's on Fire!

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry for the pun in this chapter's name. I am weak.
> 
> This was only supposed to be one chapter, but here we are.
> 
> I kind of just wrote this as a comfort fic for myself so idk how good it'll actually be. It will be mainly about self harm (burning), so if you're sensitive to the subject I highly suggest you don't read this. The last thing I want to do is trigger anyone. Please know your limits.

Rich pressed his back into the door behind him, shoulders trembling with quiet sobs as they met the cool wood. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to separate the racing thoughts in his brain, but the muffled sound of loud, repetitive music was syncing up with the pounding in his head and all he could focus on was the beat. Frustrated, he pounded his fist into the door behind him, trying to drown out the music with his own pathetic little melody. His pounding got weaker and weaker and his sobs got louder and louder until he finally gave up and slid down to the floor, curling in on himself. He was never going to get this stupid Squip out of his head. Without Mountain Dew Red, the only way he could get that asshole to shut up would be to drink and he couldn't stay drunk forever. He roughly ran his hands through his hair, hoping to rid his mind of the voice that cooed to him, _Like father like son._ That voice did not belong to the Squip. It was his own.

Taking a deep breath, Rich opened his eyes and peered around the room. He took in the sight of his familiar surroundings. It was Jake's room. He must have come here on purpose, but with everything going on in his head right now, all he could remember was bursting into a room and slamming the door behind him. He had desperately needed somewhere to get away from the chaos of the party to focus on the chaos in his own mind. And that's how he ended up here, among all of Jake's clutter and various sports trophies. With a shaky sigh, he scrubbed at his still-wet eyes with one hand, using the other to push himself up onto his feet. He wobbled over to the bed and let himself drop onto Jake's fancy ass duvet, burying his face into the silky material. He could feel it getting progressively damper as his tears soaked into it. With a sniffle, he turned his face out towards the rest of the room. He couldn't help but feel like he was trespassing, coming into this room alone. He wondered what Jake would think if he came in here, only to see his best friend curled up on his bed, crying all over his expensive bed linen. Maybe then he would finally see what a fake Rich was.

His thoughts stilled as his eyes wandered towards the dresser mirror. He tried to focus on the small picture that was taped there, but his tears blurred his vision. Wiping his eyes, he got up and made his way over. The picture was of him and Jake. Jake's arm was around his shoulder, and his was around Jake's waist. Jake was wearing his usual calm, collected smile while Rich had on a big toothy grin that showed off the gap in his front teeth. Had he gone out of his way to print this picture of them? Who printed pictures anymore? Also, he was pretty sure that it was a selfie, which made it even dorkier. Rich smiled sadly. He really didn't deserve Jake. He had only managed to become his friend with the Squip's help and he was pretty sure that Jake wouldn't even like the real Rich. He sure as hell didn't.

Tearing his eyes away from the picture, Rich took a moment to look into the mirror and desperately wish that the pathetic, red-faced reflection staring back at him wasn't his own. His hair seemed to point in every direction and strands of it had been plastered to his face by his own tears. His eyes were red and his eyelashes were clumped together, making them stand out even more. Eyes trailing down his splotchy red neck to his chest, he grimaced and adjusted his binder. Had his chest looked like that the whole party? What if someone noticed? Someone definitely noticed, right? Shit, he was freaking out again. Trying to keep from hyperventilating, he shoved his hand into his pocket, feeling the familiar smooth surface of his lighter, a guilty comfort of his. 

He pulled the lighter from his pocket. With the Squip around, he hadn't really needed it. And yet he still carried it with him everywhere he went, just in case. He figured that this counted well enough as a just in case situation. He was freaking out in his best friend's bedroom while a rager went on outside and he felt like he couldn't breathe, but there was no way in hell that he was taking off his binder because that would only make everything worse. He knew his Squip would have some shit to say about this when they came back, but he would deal with that when the time came.

This time Rich was positive that Jake would straight up kick him out if he saw him now. Yet here he was, sitting on Jake's bed in his boxer briefs, lighter in hand. He looked down at his legs. There were various burn marks littering his skin. He hadn't burned in at least a year, and yet most of them were still pink. His scars tended to take forever to heal, which suited him just fine. In a sick sense he was sort of proud of his little collection. He decided on a spot for his new burn, but before he flicked on the lighter, he looked around. It felt kind of...wrong to burn in Jake's room. It was full of his things and it had a warm, comforting air about it. Even the clutter screamed of Jake, familiar clothes shoved off to the side and a brand new skateboard sitting under the desk. Rich fondly remembered when Jake had declared that he would start skateboarding, only to step on the board and immediately eat shit. He supposed the dude couldn't be good at everything. Since then the board had made its home among the dust and discarded papers underneath Jake's desk. 

Rich looked down at his hands, still clutching the lighter for dear life. He sighed. He couldn't do this. Not here. He blinked as tears began to drip onto his hands. He stood and set his lighter on the dresser while he put his pants back on. Reaching for his lighter, his eyes caught on that picture again. The one of him and Jake. This whole time he had been lying to Jake about who he was. He didn't deserve Jake to smile at him the way he had in that picture. He didn't deserve Jake at all. In his tear-clogged state he decided that he hated that picture. So he flicked his lighter on and, before he could think it through, he burned it. He watched as the flames slowly engulfed the picture, their smiles darkening into ash. He stared at its gradual destruction, glassy eyes reflecting back the flickering orange of the small fire. But then a familiar voice brought him back from his trance. _Richard._

Panicking, Rich scanned the room, looking for any alcohol to keep the Squip at bay. He came up empty, but then his eyes fell upon the bed and that stupid beautiful duvet that smelled like Jake and tears. He gripped the lighter tightly in his hand. Maybe if he was lucky he would burn too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drinking game: Take a shot every time Jake's name comes up. No don't actually do that, you might die.
> 
> [I drew a thing for this and I'm sorry.](http://acedork.tumblr.com/post/161286680205/fond-memories-too-bad-they-burned)
> 
> If you find any mistakes, feel free to point them out.
> 
> Comments are more than welcome!
> 
> My Tumblr is acedork. Come say hi!


	2. At least no one was having sex in your bedroom? Silver linings?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake saves Rich, Rich doesn't have sex in Jake's room. So everyone's happy? Not really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jake's turn for angst, sort of.

Jake stomped up the stairs, his hand turning white from the sheer force that he was gripping the railing with. _What the hell is wrong with these people?_ He wondered as he shoved roughly past a couple who had decided that the stairs were a great place to make out. First it had been Jeremy and Chloe in his parents' room and now Jenna Rolan had told him that she was pretty sure someone was having sex in his room, if the rhythmic thumps coming from the other side of the door were anything to go off of. 

He could feel the anger boiling up in him as he made his way through the sparsely populated hallway leading to his bedroom, ready to break down the door to his own goddamn room. But once he got there, his anger fell flat as the feeling of dread tingled unpleasantly down his neck. Something was wrong. More than someone having sex in his room kind of wrong (though that was ridiculously gross. He had to _sleep_ in that room). No, he could smell smoke. Not pot smoke or cigarette smoke either. It smelled like someone had decided to start a campfire in his room. Jake looked to the top of the door. Smoke was lazily seeping out of the room, dissipating into the clear air of the hallway.

He checked the doorknob. It was warm to the touch, but to his surprise, unlocked. When he opened the door, he was confronted with a wall of smoke that billowed out around him and into the hallway beyond. Eyes as big as saucers, Jake took a moment to regret with every fiber of his being that he was the kind of person to disconnect his smoke detectors once they started beeping and then forget about them. Behind him he could hear murmurs of concern and confusion. But once one shrill scream cut through the chatter, others followed and the relative order devolved into chaos as everyone ran towards the stairs, trying to assure their own safety. 

Jake chanced a glance at the havoc behind him, but he quickly returned his worried gaze to the smoke-filled room before him. He covered his mouth and nose with his hand as his eyes began to water profusely. Through the smoke he could see the brilliant flames consuming his bed and hungrily creeping towards the surrounding furniture. And at the foot of his bed, illuminated by the flames, was the figure of a person, barely distinguishable from the piles of clothes on his floor. 

Jake could feel his palms itching with anxiety, sweat gathering on his brow. He glanced behind him apprehensively. Everyone had cleared from the smoky hall, shoving their way down the stairs to safety. Their frenzied screams were growing fainter as they moved further from the source of their panic. Taking a shaky breath, he faced the fire and blinked rapidly, trying to clear his eyes before he took a trembling step forward, into the smoldering room. 

The closer he got to the figure, the more labored his breathing became and the hotter the heat from the fire blazed against his exposed skin. But as he got closer and the figure became clearer, that same feeling of dread and fear weighed heavily down on him and he found himself unable to turn back. When he reached them, recognition sent a dull ache through his chest. With a look of horror he tried to deny what his eyes were seeing. He tried to blame it on the smoke, on his fear, on anything. “No. Nonononono.” But despite his objections, he knew the truth. At the foot of his burning bed, skin pink with fresh burns, was Rich Goranski.

Looking upon the still face of his best friend, Jake's vision blurred with tears until he could no longer distinguish between that face and the rest of their surroundings. He rubbed roughly at his eyes. He had to be able to see. He had to get them out of there. The fire was quickly spreading to the rest of the room. If they didn't move soon it would eat them alive. At least, he hoped Rich was still alive. With a short sob, he shoved that thought deep down inside of him and gathered Rich's limp body into his arms. Without his hands to shield his nose and mouth, it became increasingly difficult to breathe, but he did his best to bury his nose into Rich's shoulder, drawing him closely to his chest.

Smoke had rapidly filled the rest of the upper level of the house, a veil settling heavily onto the familiar surroundings of his home. He kept his eyes ahead of him, trying to spot anything in their way. He stopped momentarily at the stairs, unsure of his footing with Rich's body blocking his view. They had to keep going. He shifted his hold on him, making sure his grip was secure. He began to make his descent, trying to steady his wobbling legs. They got down three whole steps before his foot landed shakily on the edge of a step, sending them tumbling down towards the base of the stairs. Jake gripped Rich tightly, curling in on himself in an attempt to shield him. He landed heavily on his knees, letting out a breathy sob as pain enveloped both of his legs.

Sitting there, at the bottom of his staircase, holding his best friend in his arms, Jake was overwhelmed with everything he was feeling in that moment. He couldn't hear his sobs over the music that was droning on, but his face was wet with tears. He was pretty sure both of his legs were broken and it hurt more than anything ever had, but even more vivid than that was the overwhelming fear that engulfed him. He was so fucking _scared._ He was scared that he had failed his best friend. That they would die here, in his empty house. That Rich was already dead. That he had been this whole time and this was all for nothing. That all he had done was doom himself too. 

He was stirred from his thoughts by a faint tug at his shirt. He looked down. Rich was gripping weakly onto the fabric of Jake's shirt with one hand, the other heavily burned and cradled to his chest. His face was red from burns and tears and he could see his quivering lips curling with unheard sobs. His eyes were squeezed shut in pain. Jake felt his heart break. Leaning down, he gently pressed their foreheads together. “Rich...What did you do?” he mumbled to himself. He hated seeing him like this. He held just a faint whisper of the vibrant, outspoken boy that he cared so much about. That he thought he'd always have by his side whether he liked it or not.

He could hear Rich's sobs now, feel his weak breath on his face. Rich wasn't going to die in his arms. That would be the saddest, gayest thing he's ever done and if Rich were fully conscious he would tell Jake as much. He let out a breathy chuckle before, clenching his jaw and letting out a long breath through his nose, he steeled himself against what he was about to do. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and, as his own screams ripped through the steady beat of music for a party long since forgotten, he gripped Rich tightly in his arms and raised himself unsteadily onto his broken legs. He was going to get them out of here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hell to write. I've been having serious writer's block with it and I'm sorry if it shows. I'm not super satisfied with how it came out, but hopefully you guys like it anyways?
> 
> If you find any errors, don't be scared to point them out!
> 
> Feel free to comment, I crave validation from strangers.
> 
> My tumblr is acedork, come say hi if you want.


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